


Old Oathes

by priggishbitch



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game), The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Adorable Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV), Depression, Din Djarin - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Sadness, Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order References, author love kids so this is very adorable, bad at tags, force sensitive reader, it takes them (very quickly) all over the galaxy, mention of anakin/Vader, no beta no editing we die like men, not ani friendly, search for baby Yoda's people, unless you notice an error in which case I will Immediately Correct It, we ignore physics and space laws in this house
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25072840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/priggishbitch/pseuds/priggishbitch
Summary: You're a force-sensitive sort-of jedi(its complicated, or so you tell yourself) mechanic on the planet Alvorine when the Mandalorian parks his ship in your bay, requesting that it be completely repaired before a long haul journey. Things go sideways when he discovers you're force-sensitive and asks you to come along on their journey to find Baby Yoda's home world and train him along the way. You agree and set off on a journey that will change the course of your future.I'm bad at descriptions but give it a shot.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 80





	1. Magnets

**Author's Note:**

> This is... its a lot of wish fulfillment. That's what it is. Potentially unrealistic and all kinds of bad. This stems from a few different canons ie Fallen Order, The Mandalorian, prequels, og, comics. We're the best at pretending the sequels never happened. There's also a lot of non-canon bullshit that I add in and fudge around for personal preferences. Like fluffy towels for instance. You ever see a towel anywhere in canon? No? Me either. But we have them anyway and that's that on THAT.
> 
> Ratings may or may not change depending on my general mood. I already have seven chapters written which is a big deal for me. Please be honest. Please.
> 
> Also if anyone is willing to help me with the tenses, I'd be forever grateful. For some reason staying in first person/present tense is wildly difficult for me? No idea why but if anyone could help I'd be 💯% grateful.

. You’d been working on this damnable ship for two days straight now and had produced shockingly little progress. This junk was a wreck. You had spent the first day alone attempting to diagnose the problems it might contain, failing sublight drives, hyperdrive at partial capacity, the shields were severely damaged, you feared getting shocked by the mountains of exposed, tangled wires underneath one of the outer panels(that hadn’t even been screwed on correctly the last time someone was in here!), and on and on. It was a safety hazard, to put it nicely, so you couldn’t help but marvel at the obvious miracle of it not exploding in your bay as the pilot had landed it with only minor bumps and bangs.

The mandalorian that stepped off had dumped it on you with little fanfare, docking and disembarking as the engines still sputtered behind him, watching you with that heavy mask, “Are you as good as they say?”

Caught off guard, you managed a nod, hoping you were, in fact, as good as the picture of you had been painted. He tossed you a pouch that jangled a bit as it flew that would have smacked you square in the face if you hadn’t caught it and clunked off with nothing but himself, a huge gun and two bags. He hadn’t been back since.

Currently you were lying supine on the repulsorlift creeper that you’d splurged on for yourself a while back, letting all of your tools float around near your head, bouncing away and back as you needed them or as you moved, flexing your muscles. There had been no one around for two days, no one to bother you, or comment, or turn you into the Empire, even if it had been defeated, it still existed and was a danger. After the rebels won, the Empire had not just disbanded, not even close, instead they’d melted into the shadows, waiting. You could sense them at the edge of your consciousness. Something at the edge of your consciousness…

“How are you doing that?” The tools fell to the ground producing a ridiculously loud clanging as they bounced and settled. The mandalorian’s helmet was fixed on you, almost accusingly. All of the blood had drained from your face, leaving you suddenly dizzy and at the same time sleepy and alert. You could only desperately think of running away, getting the hell out of here now, but you knew he would catch you. He was bigger, stronger and with longer legs and you were out of practice. You paled in comparison as the gears whirled in your head, searching for a way out of this mess you’d made.

I wasn’t- it’s- They’re," you struggle desperately to come up with something, anything, "...magnets.” Magnets!? You tried to remind yourself, that this didn’t naturally mean death or danger, but old habits died hard.

Without even trying, all of your tools flew up again, clanging around the room above your head, adrenaline must be making you lose control so you fought to drop them. Something fought back, and you grimaced. This wasn’t you. Every tool bounced and jumped against your effort to put them down, when the bounty hunter crooked his head, looking carefully over his left shoulder.

“Is this you? Please, put them down, you’re going to frighten her.” Peculiar… “I said, stop it.” He patted the bag that rested on his back, whatever he was fighting went still, and whatever was raising the tools disappear, leaving you alone to slam them full-force into the floor with a clatter the size of the galaxy, it was a mess. A huge, terrifying mess. What the hell was in that bag?

The mandalorian pointed a metallic finger at you and spoke quietly through the modulator, “I’m going to show you something.” He said carefully before commanding, “Do not freak out. Am I clear?”

You managed another nod, but he was a bit late with that warning, all you could taste was bile and the world seemed to vibrate under your feet, heart thumping like a storm in your ears. The world listed to the left beneath you. Were you going to faint? Everything righted and you tried desperately to focus on what was in front of you. The mandalorian was setting his bags down carefully, one by one, the last was a canvas bag, filled with something awfully wiggly. Do not throw up, you have to remind yourself as your stomach gave an almighty heave.

Green ears emerged first, long and pointy, followed by the rest of a little green creature that began to waddle at you with such speed, it seemed almost nightmarish, but you held steady. The last thing you needed was to be clocked by a kriffing mandalorian, that beskar would hurt. The tiny creature wrapped two spindly arms around your calf in what appeared to be a hug, and the panic subsided, though merely a tiny bit.

“All that power was coming from this little thing? He’s barely a baby...”

“He’s a lot more than he looks, like you seem to be. Do you have the same magic that he does? Do you at least recognize it?”

“Of course, he’s using the force. Like the Jedi.” The words sent pangs through your gut, words you absolutely did not use anymore, if possible, memories of dead children, hunger, loss. So much loss still echoed in the force, even twenty-nine years later.

The babyish creature waved his arms up to you, so you sat next to him, crossing your legs and letting him manage his own way into your lap.

“Hi there, little one. Do you have a name? You’re very powerful.” No answer from either, so you moved on. You held his hand, so small, that yours dwarfed it significantly. “Can you close your eyes?”

You demonstrated slowly, closing your eyes and waited for him to copy you, holding both of your hands with his own slight, warm ones. You kept your eyes closed and let your own power flow out of your hands and into him, and sensed his in return. Sweet little images of the mandalorian started to filter in through the connection, the metal man caring for him, protecting him, comforting him in his fear or when he was unhappy, an overwhelming affection that left your heart aching deeply. Then you heard it, you both heard it echoing. The fear. The mandalorian cared for this child, yes, but he was also fearful. The baby disconnected from you immediately, there was another clang from tools and debris that had begun floating while you were distracted with the baby. This child was afraid of himself, ashamed of his gifts. Rage flooded out the tentative fear you’d experienced earlier.

“He’s spent, mando. Where does he sleep?” You say his name like a curse and scoop the baby into your arms, cradling him like he was precious and follow as the bounty hunter stomps up the ramp and keys open a small storage space that had been converted to what looked vaguely like a nest. A rush of unwilling affection clouds your senses, a remnant of your connection to the child upon recognizing this space designated as his own. Walls that must have been previously open had been soldered shut, soft looking blankets piled in a circle, miniature lights retrofitted to the walls. A few trinkets, toys maybe, littered the bottom of the area. Someone had drawn all over his walls, a lovely sunset, a few blue fish-seeming creatures, and a caught mid-motion frog taking off in a jump. He scuttled into his soft nest and fell asleep almost instantly as you stood near him.

“We need to talk, mandalorian. Now.” He followed you as you raged your way out of the ship, and out to the corner of your bay farthest from his ship. “Your sublights and repulsors are in perfect working order. I fixed, organized and labeled a lot of the wiring, some of it had to be completely replaced, I'm not done with that. I’ve got a couple of days of work left but I want to… I’d like to work with the kid for the rest of the time you’re here, while I’m working or during my free time. I can teach him how to control it a little, help him.”

You could feel him staring at you through the mask again, eyes piercing you through layers of tinted transparisteel. “I don’t know if that is-” You cut him off.”

“He can sense it, y’know? He can tell when you’re scared of him, do you know that?” He leaned forward and started to protest, puffing his chest out in his righteous indignation. “You fear his powers, what he can do, I noticed it, and so did he. It’s hurting him. He wants so desperately to keep from scaring you that he’s ashamed of his powers, that he’s trying to hide them. He is ashamed of something he can’t control, something beautiful and special. Feel. Feel this.” 

You slap your hands to either side of his head, pushing the images and feelings that the baby had shared with you not even thirty minutes ago into him willing him to understand. Boundless affection, the pure unwavering love and loyalty only a child can give, hazes over every interaction with the mandalorian, scratching gently between his almost comical ears, cleaning him, carrying him gently, painting his walls, and carefully building his nest of blankets, letting him absorb all of this before letting him experience his own fear and the way the child's own doubt tinged every gentle, loving moment in a gray wash of shame and guilt.

The mandalorian gripped both of your wrists tightly, squeezed them away, holdimg them at a distance, vise-like. His voice broke through the modulator. “I didn’t know. I’ve never… I’ve never experienced anything like him in almost forty years. For all I know he could end my life with a snap of his fingers, and I was trained to be wary of potential threats. I didn’t know.”

“I don’t believe he could snap even if he wanted too, you’ve noticed his hands. Not that it’s currently relevant, but the point is that you’re training him to be wary of himself and sowing those seeds of self-doubt are the first steps down a very long, dark path with few exits.”

“I never meant to hurt him.”

“I know, I can tell but you have to be more in control of your emotions around him because he is not in control of his own yet. Let me train with him for a couple of days, at least until the ship is done.”

“Thank you.” Maybe it had been the modulator, but his voice was shaky now, almost like he was crying.

“You’re hurting my arms.” He glances  
down at them, still squeezing and then let's go, shaking out his hands before marching away.


	2. Practice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I would like to clarify that I know Anakin's saber was canonically still blue throughout the purge and his battle with Obi-Wan. Also that his eyes don't turn yellow until Mustafar. I don't know when he would have had time to bleed his crystal but it's significantly more aesthetically convenient for my Trauma™ as well as assuming that his eyes would have done the yellow thing because it means that he fully gave himself to the darkside so that's my story and I'm sticking to it.**

Chapter 2

Your dreams are the same as always, dark and terrifying. You and some of the other initiates of clan Bergruufta were in the nursery, none of you older than three, infants and toddlers barely learning their first words when the yellow-eyed man had burst through the door. You see him look directly at you, and then all you can see is a deep, shaking, red glow suffusing the room around you, and a searing stripe of pain up from your stomach across your chest and shoulder.

You wake in a cold sweat, tears rolling down your face, wanting nothing more than to scream until your lungs give out. Another day is dawning you notice, and decide to get a jump start on the left wing's busted deflector shield. You dress quickly, and simply, dark linen pants, ancient oil stains barely noticeable and a similar shirt that wrapped around you and met again over your stomach. Your room was still dark, and messy, you thought idly for a moment that you should stay in here and pick up before deciding it was probably best just to get started. You yank your control bracelets on, the little panels that control doors, lifts, and various other pieces of your shop, blinking, and trudge out of your measly side room and into the larger, brightly lit bay.

After situating yourself cross-legged on the creeper, you pressed the button commands that would lift you to the appropriate place near the damaged deflector panels. You work on the ship in silence for maybe an hour or so before the gangway drops slowly to the ground.

“He seems… eager to see you.” The tiny creature wiggles in his arms as you drop the lift near them to grab the baby. The mandalorian stops you, wary of the heights.

“You don’t mind tramping around with him in a sack on your shoulder in one of the most dangerous cities in the known galaxy, but you won’t let me take him up ten feet with me?” You sigh almost incredulously, stepping off the lift and holding your hands out. He nearly jumps into your arms, throwing you off balance as a smug smile crosses your face.

You scan where the mandalorian's eyes should be and say in a careful voice, “Just trust me.” before focusing on the child. You bounce him gently in your arms, up and down, conveying calm and contentment through the force as best you can. You mimic dropping him, letting go for a second and grabbing him again almost immediately, repeating this until you finally let go completely. He bounces a good six inches above the floor, once, twice before dropping gently to the floor with a muffled thump. The baby shrieks and giggles, clearly requesting a repeat performance as he rolls around with laughter. You look up in time to catch the terrifying bounty hunter, putting a blaster back in the holster on one leg with one hand, and clutching his chest with the other.

“Under absolutely no circumstances should you try that again if you prefer to live. Nehutyc.”

Gutsy. You couldn’t help the smirk that carved itself into your face, “He seemed to like it.” You popped the child onto your shoulders and stepped backwards onto the lift, saluting the mandalorian as you shot back into the air, returning to your busy work on the deflector, now with company. You float your tools again, letting them revolve near the baby’s easy reach. “My methods may not be Council approved, but I will do my best, Sir.” The man grunts in response from the ground nearby, like he was waiting to catch one or both of you if you fell as the baby yanked and produced sweet, shrieky noises with sheer delight, “How much language does he understand?”

“A fair bit, though he’s not exactly talkative himself.” The mandalorian leaned against the nearest wall, obviously not willing to go too far from his charge.

“Alright then, wee man. I’m going to think of a tool and then I want you to hand it to me. Carefully. Deal?” Another shriek, more hair pulling, both of which you took to be an affirmative. You focused carefully on what you needed, projecting it as best you could to the creature perched on your shoulders like a bird. You caught him just as he reached an infantile three clawed hand to grab the tool and used the force to push it further. “Not with your hands, please.”

The wrench moved halting towards your head and you did your best not to flinch. It took a second to reach you, but you had it all the same. You praised the baby wildly, clapping liberally and ruffling his floppy over-large ears, telling him what an awesome, amazing job he’d done. This was the pattern you fell into, chatting to him about nothing in particular.

“You know, three fingers means you’re tridactyl, and you have one little toe on the back of your foot which makes you anisodactyl, but we both have two legs, which makes us bipedal, so, we’re basically twins.”

The mandalorian lurked beneath the two of you as you worked, following you even when you moved from the deflectors to the hyperdrive. Eventually the child started to sag a bit on your shoulders, he was probably ready for lunch and a nice cozy nap. You have the lift drop both of you gently down and step off, snuggling him tightly to your chest for just a moment before handing him over to be cradled in the mandalorian's waiting arms. The mandalorian didn’t appear exactly like the cuddling type, not that you’d put too much thought into it.

“He’s astonishing, honestly. His aim is so much better. He only knocked me over the head once or twice.

“Four times.”

“Okay, fine, four times, but that is excellent!” Your hand shot reflexively to what you assumed would be by now a large, livid purple bruise. “But by the end, he was getting the right thing more often than he didn’t, and he knows most of them by name now. He’ll be a properly talented mechanic one day if you ask me.” You pat the baby on his head between his ears, thanking him for all of his help, and watching them go until the gangway closed behind them.

The mandalorian comes back down not even an hour later sans baby and makes his way over to where you sit eating. You finished quickly and wiped your hands on your pants, having no qualms about keeping your clothes clean, knowing they’ll be covered in grease no matter what you do.

“You’re gracious with him. Do you have children?”

“No, no children.” You realized vaguely that you were wringing your hands and forced them to separate.

“You’re a Jedi?”

“No, I… no. It’s complicated.”

“But you can teach him to use the magic?” He was looking for some reassurance, that he wasn’t entrusting his… child to someone unworthy or incapable.

“I was at the Temple during the purge, where they trained the Jedi, but I was only three. I’m alive due to happenstance and happenstance alone, or a miracle of the force maybe, I guess.” Your hand drifts up to where the long, ugly scar crosses your body, red glare flashing behind your eyes, you willed yourself not to puke or faint, “When I was 8 or so, I figure, a Jedi found me, Cal Kestis and his partner, a nightsister named Merrin, who he traveled with. Between the two of them, Cal trained me in the ways of the Jedi, or what he remembered, and Merrin trained me in nightsister magick, which actually uses the dark side of the force.” The words sounded forced, leaving you feeling the desperate need to cry or scream or race away even as they continue to fall from your mouth. “They taught me balance in the force and, in myself, to counter all of the rage and fear I felt. I’ll never be in a position to teach him to be the perfect Jedi, or even any sort of Jedi, I guess, but I can teach him some control and focus, a few tricks. If we had more time, and he was older, I could teach him to camouflage himself, but that just seems like it would be an inopportune game of peekaboo.”

The mandalorian considers you in silence as you fiddle with the ties on your shirt trying desperately not to scratch at your scar or let the memories that threaten to engulf you have their way.

“Your ship should be ready for the long haul by tomorrow evening. My honest recommendation as a professional mechanic is get a new gods damned ship but I have a feeling you’re attached to this one for some reason.”

“Yes,” He sighs through his modulator, “Would you consider traveling with us temporarily to teach him? I can pay you, if you teach him and watch him while I’m busy.”

You knew, in theory, that your mouth had dropped open, but couldn’t quite conceptualize it. You hadn’t left Alvorine for years, not since you arrived here after you split from Cal. This was your home, it was all you knew. What would happen to your shop if you left it behind?

“I’m- I can’t- I couldn’t-” Traveling with that sweet creature and his… imposing father(figure?), “Where are you going?”

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll have jobs but I’m searching for his home planet, his people. I want to take him where he belongs.”

“I had assumed he belonged with you, aren’t you his father?” He shakes his helmet in the negative, “Can I think about it?”

He nods this time before padding away silently to his ship and the tiny creature who apparently needed a home.


	3. Agreement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mando and reader come to a deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so lets just say I was really hoping season two would give us baby yoda's species and had a whole thing planned that involved needing that info so I'm reworking the whole ending. I've got nine more chapters written, length depending on my mood and what I'd eaten that day, but after that I'm yknow freAKING OUT when it comes to plot and not just general baby cuteness and vague and not so vague romance. Since the chapters are already edited and ready to go I'm going to try and post more regularly for those who Give A Heck and hope that I come up with a new plan in the mean time. 
> 
> Here's some more of my vaguely crappy, wish-fulfillment writing. I love all of you, thank you.

It’s late in the day before you hear from them again, the baby must have been exhausted, but he seems fine now as he yanks on your pants' leg, attempting to climb up you with his clumsy fingers so you give in and lift him into your arms. He leaned his forehead against your chin, letting thoughts filter from his skin and into yours as images, shuffling like cards, make sense of themselves in your mind. The mandalorian's helmet glints in the light through sleepy hooded eyes, a vambraced hand on his soft green forehead, then his voice, foggy sounding like you’re hearing it from underwater, half asleep, “I am... sorry for being afraid. You have amazing abilities. Goodnight, little one.”

Tiny hands rapped on your skull, your heart squeezing with something strange and sweet, something you absolutely refuse to acknowledge, full-stop.

“Did you make a decision? Will you come with us?” You think your heart skips a beat at the sound of his voice and your cheeks heat, the strange, sweet feeling in your chest swells. All you can manage is a nod in response, shocking even yourself, considering you had firmly decided not to go only minutes before.

“I’ll teach him what I can and watch him when you need. You really don’t know anything about him?” You cock your head closer to the baby, so he can continue playing with your ears and hair without stretching so far, keeping your eyes on the Mandalorian while he sizes you up in return. You feel it somewhere in your bones, the way he’s judging you. A gleam on the tinted transparently where his face should be caught your eye, and for a moment you can imagine a face. Dark, handsome, but haggard and drained, someone who just needs a hand. An unidentifiable feeling sparks through your chest, almost painful in its intensity. Oh, no. Your hand shoots up to cover your neck where the scar starts to poke out of your shirt and streaks up your collarbone, suddenly very aware of it.

“I have almost nothing so far. The people I rescued him from wanted nothing more than to… well, they didn’t give me any worthwhile information before they were… incapacitated.” You can sense his discomfort, vague as it is, not used to talking so much. You would turn out to be a trial, then, you were sure, as chatting was your favorite thing to do.

“Maybe you should start on Coruscant where the Jedi Temple was before the Empire turned it into a palace. I have heard they destroyed the records, but there are rumors that Palpatine kept a lot of it hidden there, that it survived. He looks like a couple of the masters there, Yoda and the other one who I never really met. Olaror bat, shekemir ni.” You repeat what you say in basic, emphasizing for the baby, “Come on, follow me.”

The mandalorian starts talking in rapid Mando’a, losing you somewhere after the first sentence. You can’t help the guilty blush that makes your face warm.

“Nayc. No. I hardly know any, barely enough to ask someone about their ship and repairs, money. I figured you speak it to the baby, and it couldn’t hurt to reinforce what I do know.” He nods almost sullenly, “Are you sure he doesn’t have a name? It sounds weird not using a name. For that matter, do you have a name?”

“I do. He doesn’t. Just call me Mando.” Dull name, you decide opening the door of your room to show them in, it had only been a storage area, but you preferred small places. 

You hand him the baby before opening a few of your drawers and digging through boxes, searching for some of the things you had taken with you when you separated from the crew of the Mantis twelve years ago. You’d spent the years training and scouring the galaxy for remaining Jedi knowledge, seeking hidden objects, hoping to find them before the empire could destroy them all in between piloting and protection jobs. Ancient books hidden on Ilum, lost temples on unnamed, undiscovered planets, holocrons recording eons of Jedi history. You had nothing comprehensive enough, but you had maps and what you needed now was to find Cal Kestis. 

“The man who trained me, Cal, and his crew gathered information from all over the galaxy about the Jedi Order, everything we could find that hadn't been destroyed. I haven’t seen or heard from him in years, but if we could find him, I’m sure he could help us. The archives the Jedi had before the purge were extensive and what we collected afterwards was almost nothing in comparison, but we have to have found something about Master Yoda and his origins.” It takes a few more minutes to uncover but there’s a tiny piece of metal in your hand when you stand again. “If you plug this into your nav system, it should lead us to a planet called Yienath in the unknown regions. That’s the last place I saw them, it was kind of our base, where we kept all of the things we’d found.”

He takes the little drive and squeezes it carefully in his hand, “This is- Thank you.”

“I’d say it was a coincidence that you ended up in my shop, but I don’t really believe in coincidence. The force works wonders and maybe it wants me to help you.” He’s silent again as the baby coos before he clears his throat.

“You said the ship would be ready tomorrow night?”

“Closer to tomorrow morning, early afternoon. I want to finish replacing and organizing the damaged wiring, and conduct a systems check on the navs and life support but yes. If I come aboard to do the systems check now, I can do that and replace the last bit of wiring tonight and tidy it all up in the morning. Show me to the cockpit, would you?”

It’s about as cramped as most, at the helm of his ship. He stood behind you watching as you pointed things out to the child, who you had asked for again at the earliest possible second. He sat cuddled in your arms, watching you with huge, expressive eyes.

“This,” you say emphatically, pointing to a port underneath a row of switches that glow in the dim lighting, “is where I plug in my scanner. It will talk to the ship and ask it how it’s feeling, tell me if I need to fix anything to make it safe for my favorite little guy.” 

The baby puts his hands on your face again, more images of Mando, of the child almost bringing down the ship mid-flight, a stern, but gentle voice that makes your face go pink again. “Yes,” you say, “It’s probably better if you don’t touch any of the switches or buttons for now. That’s a clever plan.” 

The scanner goes into the port and starts chirping in binary, listing stats in quick succession. You copy them into one of the control panels on your arm, trying to keep track of what did and didn’t need to be examined in person. Most of the electronics were satisfactory, navigation and controls were sufficient, but the life support was throwing more errors than you were personally comfortable with. One error would have been too much. Air pressure leaks, kink in the oxygen lines, maybe?

“Everything’s okay,” you turn to face the mandalorian still petting the child's ears, glancing up at him as he stands sentinel-like behind the two of you, “But it says there’s a minor leak in the cooling systems that I’ll need to patch and a few other things I'd like to take a closer look at, though that can wait if you’re eager to get going. I can reattach all the panels in the morning, which should take an hour or two. Anything else you want checked out?”

His mind seems to be elsewhere, “You’re particularly good with him. Not that he has been picky over who he gives his affection to, considering myself, but he seems at ease with you.” You feel your face glowing red again, enough that it burns, “No, it seems like you covered all of my concerns, but I can show you to the berthing area and you can bring whatever you want up, so you don’t have to do it all in the morning.”

You smile and nod, still feeling a little light-headed after the rush of blood to your face and follow him through his ship. The lights are muted but plenty enough to get by, the room he leads you to is just off the main area, a compact room with wall storage and two bunk beds set into the metal wall, cordoned off by curtains. He presses a button and a panel in the wall opens with a woosh.

“You can bring anything you feel like and store it all in here, I sleep just across the hall and the child stays in his space” You hear him hesitate for just a moment before he finishes, “or with me. Sometimes. Occasionally.”

A smile breaks out on your face at the thought and you whisper conspiratorially to the baby, “He’s just a big old, softy, huh?”

The mandalorian grunts through his modulator and stalks away, sulking.

“It’s sweet, really!” You can't help but chuckle at the thought of that scary man, who could probably kill you faster than you could take a breath cuddling a miniature fuzzy green baby when one or both can’t sleep. 

“Where exactly is this planet we’re going to? What did you call it?” you follow his voice and find him standing over a holo map, your grid, S-14, highlighted in a vibrant, blinking green.

It takes you a few moments studying over the vast images before you point to a grid space almost clear across the galaxy, “Yienath, D-9. It should be… somewhere in this area. It’s mostly marshes and dense forests, but there are rock plateaus to land on and between the crew we managed to build a few solid structures as a habitat at the edge of the forest. It’s got sufficient, though not overmuch, oxygen and there seems to be no cognizant species that we discovered while we were there, wildlife mostly, nothing too dangerous or curious. If needs be, we can keep him safe there for a long while. Good hunting if we must. Hopefully, Cal will either be there or at least the artifacts we found will be.”

“It’s far.”

“Well, that seems like an understatement. Do you want to stop at Coruscant on the way, see if they recovered any archives from the Palace?”

“This is the best lead I’ve had so far. Coruscant is a fine idea. Thank you.” He switches off the map and nods again. Feeling dismissed, you hand over the baby and make your way to get your things.


	4. Routines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to go! Leaving Alvorine brings back memories for y/n and leaves her feeling unmoored.

Settling your affairs on Alvorine had been simple and speedy, giving control of your bay to a friendly (okay, maybe not _friendly_ ) mechanic nearby, packing up your personal items and moving them on to the ship. You replaced the panels on the Razor Crest and repaired a minuscule hole you’d found in the coolant system that kept the inner hull at a livable temperature, double checking again that you hadn’t missed anything.

You were ready to leave before the half-rotation had come, boarding the ship had been troubling, though. You felt almost nostalgic about this hell-scape of a planet, covered in thieves, smugglers, bounty hunters, and spice runners. The worst part had been retrieving your saber from its hiding place. The memories attached to it, of all your prior traveling companions, the places you went and things you had witnessed brought an unwieldy feeling that settled in your gut and took over your thoughts.

Worst of all, it had brought back memories of your trip to Ilum, Cal had been, looking back now, as gentle and patient with you as ever, even as the rage you experienced welled up inside you like a geyser, preparing to explode. You'd understood him only as bossy and condescending, talking to you like an idiot child when you'd survive more than most. This, he had said, was the exact reason you needed to be patient.

Looking back now, you full well knew he was correct. Not six months later had you gone wild. Cal had condescended to train with you once again, and he kept being so _obl_ _iging._ He was always so friendly even as he knocked you onto your ass, again, and again, and again. Finally, you'd had it. You'd let out a yell so deep and guttural that Cal had flown back, past the end of the Mantis and almost off a cliff into the marshes a mile beneath you.

You remembered plainly wanting to strike at him until he _stopped being so friendly._ Then it had all hit you at once, slapping across your face like the icy winds on Ilum. You had used the dark side and had almost murdered the man who had raised you and cared for you and taught you. You were evil. Just like the empire, just like the man who'd cut you down as a youngling. Your saber had fallen from your hand, smacking against the ground in a shockingly final tone. You watched Cal pull himself up from the ledge and heard him yell for you to stop as you took off, jumping from the flat over a wide chunk of marsh, landing in a wobble. You ran. You had gone all the way into the forests where you had been absolutely forbidden to go alone. The wildlife on Yienath veered wildly from dangerous to deadly on contact, but you had been unable to breathe.

You'd ended up lost in the forest for three days before Cal had found you, so insignificant at age twelve, lifted you from the hole in the tree trunk where you had claimed safety from the terrors outside, and carried you back to the Mantis. It took no time to nurse you back to full strength with the abundance of provisions they'd picked up before leaving for the Unknown Regions, but still you seemed to wither.

You'd always been small, after your time on Coruscant, malnourished, shoved into small spaces, but you seemed to be getting even smaller. You had let the guilt consume you and had taken to sneaking off the bunks and into the depths of the Mantis, where a forgotten storage closet seemed more like the home you were accustomed to than the wide-open spaces, free of acrid fumes and empty of people, that waited above.

In the end it had been Merrin who'd saved you from yourself. She'd spoken to Cal about knowing exactly how you felt and pointed out that it had been far too late in life to curb your anger. Unlike Cal, who'd been raised in the Jedi culture, you'd been unceremoniously thrust into the world at the age of three, lost and alone and left to stew in resentment that would burn away everything that was worthwhile if you’d let it win. It was decided you wouldn't ignore it, or hide it, but accept it and use it. An ancient Jedi practice of, not separating the force as it existed into good and evil, but using the force, existing in the dark and light at once. After all, Cal had reasoned, it’s only evil if you use it to harm, to hurt, for selfish gain.

Cal had taught you the light, and Merrin had done the rest. She trained you in the magick of her home world, which relied heavily on awareness and acceptance of the dark rather than vilifying and fearing it.

You'd been pulled from your memories by a tiny hand, insistently trying to get your attention. Disconcerted, as if you'd been pulled through time to sit here on this ancient ship, two faces trained on yours. One masked, one wide-eyed with curiosity and worry.

"You were calling out. And throwing things. Are you alright?" His voice, solid and steady, slow, and deep, through the modulator, was almost enough to put you back to sleep.

"I didn’t sleep very well last night, I'm sorry. I didn't hurt you, did I?" You direct the last part to the wiggly green lump that crawled into your lap,

"He was… he was worried about you." There is a palpable edge to his voice, "You didn't hurt anyone."

You realize only then that you're gripping your saber tight enough that the whirls in the duraplast casing had left matching imprints in the skin of your palm. You set it down on the table in front of you gently, trying not to appear too afraid of it, fix a chipper smile to your face and pat the baby between his ears all while trying not to look like you do not remember sitting down here, or laying your head down to sleep to begin with. _Everything is okay,_ you think loudly, hoping the kid notices it and takes it to heart.

"We're ready to take off if you're ready to leave. Is the Imperial Palace still the plan?"

You nod, still lost in thought, the heavy weight that laid suddenly on your shoulders was making you nervous.

"I haven't been back since I was a child. Cal took me away when I was eight and I've been too nervous to go back. Never had a valid reason to." You squeeze the squirming bundle in your hands into a hug, "But you're worth it, little guy."

The mandalorian turns away, heading for the cockpit.

"Just hold on to the child until I've got us in hyperspace. Normally he sits with me, but he looks comfortable."

You look down at the child, his face flush against your chest, one ear bent up laying against the vivid red scar on your neck. He really does look comfortable.

You're almost nauseous as the mandalorian, Mando, you remind yourself, starts the ship's engines and proceeds through his regular pre-flight routine. Ten years alone on this odd, pointy planet, content in your self-imposed isolation. Your anxiety is creeping like electricity through your veins, rushing through your ears as loud as a waterfall so you squeeze your eyes and start reciting the meditation ritual Cal had found for you in a whisper.

" _We call upon the three-_

_Light, dark, and balance true._

_One is no greater than the others._

_Together they unite, restore, center, and renew._

_We walk into the light,_

_acknowledge the dark,_

_and find balance within ourselves._

_The Force is strong."_

When it seemed like the rumbling and shaking would never stop, the ship gave one greater heave before settling into a smoother motion. You felt nauseated again and stood to stretch your legs. They were jellied beneath you and you panicked before you remembered how different it felt to walk in artificial gravity.

You made your way to the cockpit, looking for anything to do to clear your mind and were abruptly struck by the beauty of hyperspace. It seemed almost unreal, like looking at a giant screen projecting images.

“We should try and sleep soon, so we can sync up with Coruscant before we get there. “

You’re only nodding in response before you realize he isn’t looking at you. “I’ll get him ready. Does he have a routine or…?”

He turns his entire body and looks at you then, “Routine?”

“Do you do the same thing with him just before he sleeps so that he and his body know that it’s sleeping time? They were strict at the temple. Food, bath, clean clothes, stories, which were only histories, and then bed. That way if something interrupts our schedules, all they have to do to get us back on track is following our routine.”

“And that works?”

“Very well.”

“No, we do not have a routine. Would you show me?”

So, you do. Feeding him is simple, you feed them both in fact, Mando leaving the room for a few minutes. The bath gets a little trickier, as there really is only a shower and a simple one at that, but you make do with a deep sink and an old rag as a plug. Using soap you brought with you, as there isn’t really any of the bubbling variety aboard, you teach them both to create bubbles. The child delights in it, lost in the sudsy feeling, cooing, and playing and shooting bubbles with quick little breaths, across at both you and the mandalorian. When you turn to look at him standing behind you, he’s got the curious tilt to his head again.

“I don’t remember doing anything like this as a child.” A pang of sadness jolts through you, even with your terrible childhood you had baths. Utilitarian ones, yes. But even still you had reveled in the bubbles, had a few minutes to soak in the warmth. You refocused on the miniature bubble monster in front of you and gently washed him, scratching softly between his ears, and patting gently on his back. He fought when you pulled him out, but most kids do, and stopped when you wrapped him in a fluffy towel you had brought with you. You cooed back at him as you went through the motions, dressing him in what passed as clothing, playing with his wrinkled little feet and before settling him in your arms to tell him a story.

You tell them a story from when you were young, of Cal taking you somewhere beautiful, the perilous climb up an enormous tree, and of Cal using the force to catch when you lost your balance. You end it on the back of a colossal bird, happily flying into the sunset with your found family. The baby is asleep by the time it’s over and you tuck him gently into his nest.

“So you simply do that every night, or as much as you can, and he’ll start to associate that routine with sleep. Eventually, if you’re diligent, when you’re going to change time schedules, you’ll be able to do it during the middle of the day, and he’ll knock immediately out.”

“Where did you learn all of this?”

“The Jedi were fairly strict about the routine, though they probably would have frowned on the personal, emotional story part of it. It can be bonding with caregivers and children if you’re not careful, but oh boy, were they careful. Droids cared for us when we aged out of the nursery, but they lacked any sort of emotional acuity. It was regimented, but still better than some situations

He nods vaguely, “We turn the lights off while we sleep, all of them. So that I can take my helmet off.”

“Of course, I don’t mind. Goodnight, Mando.”

He responds with another nod and clunks off somewhere to the back of the ship. It’s been, somehow, one of the shortest and longest days of your life. You feel unmoored and emotionally ragged, this new adventure, this new trial it’s all so much at once. Unsure how long he will give you until he switches off the rest of the lights, you rush through your pre-bedtime routine and fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I make things up because I like the way they sound! From what I can tell, babies in the Jedi program are actually cared for by other Jedi but that seems so un-Jedi to me because it's almost impossible not to bond with babies/toddlers in your care which leaves both side open to the dark side and what not. I don't know what Din's upbringing would have been like but I imagine highly utilitarian and strict though not necessarily unpleasant, considering that we know it to be a cult or at least cult like. Also as far as I can tell bubble baths and fluffy towels don't necessarily exist in canon but they DO NOW! 
> 
> Also here is a link to the saber, it's my fave configuration so I used it.  
> https://va.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_qmmr341wXF1z4h94b.mp4
> 
> You can also check out my tumblr with fallen order content @ notapproved-trash.tumblr.com


	5. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> two chapters because I feel guilty and this a really short chapter!
> 
> Reader has a nightmare.

You’re fully aware it’s a nightmare, you almost always are now. After having the same recurring hellscape in your dreams for twenty-some-odd years, you’d think you’d have grown used to it. But no. Of course not. It’s as inescapable and terrifying as it was the first time you’d gone through it. Cowering children, yells from outside of the door. The death throes of the other younglings, most of them unable to walk or speak, all too horrible to truly think about, to acknowledge. The door slides open and your whole being seizes in fear. He’s all black cape, yellow eyes and fury-red lightsaber as it arcs down over you, searing your hip, your stomach, your chest…

“Wake up.” You struggle against the weight on your shoulders and the burning on your scar. Wake up. Wake up. Wakeupwakeupwakeup. You shoot up, smashing your face into something solid. “Ow! Kriff, that’s gonna bruise. What the hell is wrong with you?”

It’s so dark that you feel blind, groping around in the darkness for something, someone, solid. Relief floods through you as you find two arms, replacing the stinging burn of your scar. Without bothering to deliberate, you launch yourself at him, holding to his shoulders like they’re a life raft in the ocean. You sense his hands hesitating, hovering near your back.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It was a nightmare, I didn’t mean to.” He sets his hands gently on your shoulder blade and lower back, patting you at an awkward pace. You bury your face into his shoulder, desperate to catch your breath. “Is your face okay? Is that what I hit? Maybe you need to wear your mask anyway if I’m going to go around smashing it in the middle of the night…”

He shushes you gently and in the silence you’re suddenly aware of your situation. This man, and he does appear very much like a man now, is shirtless, holding you to his chest, in the thick, solemn darkness of space. The intimacy of it strikes you, this man who never removes his mask appears just as vulnerable as you, only flesh now instead of armor. 

He smells like warmth and sleep, half out of it you murmur, “You smell nice.” into his shoulder. All the mandalorian can do is laugh, a hearty sort of bellow that makes your embarrassing revelation even more worth it.

“Will you be okay? To sleep?” He asks into the void like darkness of your room, mouth somewhere near the crown of your head.

“I think so, yes. And if not, I'll just meditate.” You feel him nodding, chin brushing your hair, before he disentangles himself from you and leaves without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know anakins eyes weren't yellow yet, but yellow eyes means you're truly, deeply part of the dark side and i dont believe that he would have had it after killing a bunch of asshole capitalists but not a multitude of small children??? also I know he would not have had time to bleed his saber yet but that's not scary enough for me so im making it red anyway!


	6. Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader and Mando have some free time!

You never did fully fall back asleep, drifting somewhere between conscious and unconscious. Some moments would be fine and lucid and then blink the demon from your nightmares, the broken, angry man with the yellow eyes holding the tip of his flaming red saber, not even inches from the scar on your neck. You feel the torrent of his emotions, the rage, the despair, guilt, pain, terror, and love, so much love that it overwhelmed you, like some kind of storm in your chest. But you don’t cry out again, you do not scream. You hold your fear in, wound tightly in your chest. 

Lights start to filter on eventually, only the indicator lights at first and then the safety lights, dull yellow like the mornings on Alvorine. You’re exhausted, deep in your bones, exhausted like you may never be fully awake again, but you drag yourself up anyway. You had brought along the staff Cal had taught you to saber fight with as you had learned your lesson long ago, about using a saber in a confined space. The gash in the Mantis’ hull had taken almost three weeks to repair and it had never looked the same again. You would still swear to this day that Greez had held a grudge whether he denied it or not.

You were rusty as you went through the motions, twirling the staff around and doing the basic stances, moving as fluidly between them as you could. You were rusty and your mind wandered vaguely around the idea of sparring with the mandalorian. He was strong, obviously, and while brute force was an exceptional way to gain the upper hand, you had always been small in stature. The first and only time you beat Cal in combat was when Cere had taken you aside and told you to use your speedy, almost acrobatic frame to your advantage, to be small and sneaky and clever instead of trying to mimic Cal’s wild, brute force. 

Cal’s fighting style had been almost feral, moving on instinct and the bare minimum of training, but Cere had been a brilliant teacher. The thought of her, her face and her voice, the sound of her hallikset reverberating through the hollow, metal hull of the ship sent a jolt of anguish down your through your stomach, driving your scar to ache. You banish the thought of them both and leave your room to seek out Mando.

“Good morning,” you say to the baby, sitting on a table in front of the mandalorian who, though in full armor, stiffens at your approach as if to defend himself. “I was wondering if, when we had any extra time, if you might possibly be willing to train me.”

“Haven’t you already been trained?” He asks it accusingly and your face burns in the cool air. 

“I haven’t touched my saber in ten years. Not even for self-defense. I don’t know if I could fight if I needed to. To protect him, or myself.” Not him though. He was a man who did not need protecting.

His helmet finally shifts then, up slightly to examine you, muse over your request. You think you can recognize it again then, the handsome, weary face. This time he has a quirk to his eyebrow, stuck in his own thoughts. You think he clears his throat but can’t be sure. You only know you were staring pointedly at the deeply tinted transparisteel of his helmet, desperately straining to see through.

“You’ll need to eat first.” So, you do. You shovel down what you reckon later is oatmeal, scalding your throat before you hop in front of them. Too eager, you suppose. You do your best to calm down and try not to look like you’re bursting out of your skin with excitement. “What exactly do you want to practice?”

“Personal combat, maybe a bit with my saber if you don’t mind. But not with the actual saber, I have a training weapon. Stings a little but I don’t think it will bother you much.” You motion towards his beskar, hoping that explains your line of thought. He nods before leaving the room, going only for a moment when he returns with an unwieldy looking chunk of metal.

“This thing is deadly, but the electro- and pressure-shocks can be disabled.” He shows you clearly where the switches are, reassuring you without words. “Alright, when you’re ready, show me what you can do.”

“You just want me to hit you?”

“I want you to try to.”

Rude. You nod at him, gathering your nerve before taking a deep breath. You can do this, you figure, just hit him. Your staff swings down in an arc, but before you even come close, Mando whips his own weapon up jarring your arm. He twists it and disarms you easily.

“Are you out of practice or are you simply bad at it?” You saw red and lashed out, determined to prove yourself capable. After parrying for a while, he ducks quickly out of the way, causing you to lose your balance and uses your trajectory to spin your arm behind your back. “Better.”

His voice is dripping with something that sounds like sarcasm, but your brain is too fuzzy to process anything but how close he is, pressed flush against your back except for where he presses your forearm against you the child produces a noise from somewhere to your right and the world crashes back into focus. You twist your arm out of his grip and manage to rap him in the center of his helmet with your staff. 

He clears his throat and shakes his head as if he’s trying to clear it. You wonder for a moment if you had the same effect on him that he had on you before coming to your senses. He is a mandalorian, essentially a droid with a code of honor. Honor, you think with a scoff, look at all the messes honor gets people into.

“You’ll hold your own. We should arrive at Coruscant within the hour. If you two want to settle in for the jump out of hyperspace, that would be a good idea.” You nod and reach for the baby, carefully perched on the table. He’s no longer a fall risk since he caught on to your bouncing idea. It’s been a problem twice now, as he attempts once more to launch himself off the table. You catch him with the force just as his feet leave the surface and watch as his face falls from a gleeful smile to a sort of scrunchy-eyed wrath. He wiggles his entire body, doing his best to squirm out of your arms, but this is a game you can play. You hold him suspended with the force, stepping back as he flails around in mid-air, obviously disgruntled by your outwitting him. 

The child makes angry little noises, fighting back against you as best he can, glaring daggers at you as he struggles. It’s been a long time since you exercised some of your more creative powers, so you try to camouflage yourself and disappear, only it doesn’t work at first. You merely flicker in and out of existence, lighting the room up in a ghostly green. Finally, focusing out your fight with the baby, you shimmer like you’re covered in green fire and it works. You’re gone, watching as the baby realizes you’re out of his sight. Watching as his chest starts to rise and fall faster, his eyes well up with tears. Watching as he begins to wail loudly, as if pained, though you’re obviously still holding him suspended. 

In your panic you can’t get back. You’re reaching for him, struggling to just be visible when the mandalorian comes almost screeching to a halt between the two of you.

“I’m still here, I swear but I can’t get back. Can you hold him? Please?” The massive, intimidating bounty hunter spins around defensively, obviously startled. 

“Y/n?” he asks, staring directly through you and off down the hallway. You knock on his cuirass to give him an idea of where you are.

“I’m holding him up, but I need you to take him, so I can focus.” He turns slowly and carefully plucks the baby out of the air, stepping back to wait for your reappearance. 

It only takes a minute, though it feels like much longer, but eventually the green light surrounds you and you’re you again. You’d felt oddly empty, ghostlike almost and you pat yourself down, doing a check to make sure all your parts made it back to this land of the living. When you finally look up from yourself, Mando is suspended, statuesque, and the child is finally calming. After what seems like an eternity the mandalorian lifts an armored hand to your cheek and touches it gently, then squeezes your upper arm just a bit more firmly. 

“You were there, I could touch you, but… can he do that?”

“Hopefully not. It seems like it scared him enough.” Before you finish, the baby launches himself out of the mandalorian’s metal arms and into your own. You can’t help cooing at him reassuringly. “Hello. Hello, my love. I’m still here, I swear. I couldn’t leave you. My little guy, I’m still here.”

You press your cheek against his head as he buries his face into your chest and neck, one hand wrapped firmly in your hair, like you might just disappear again if he lets go. It wrenches your heart. 

“You scared him.” It’s distorted through the modulator, barely a whisper but you hear him, “You scared me, I thought you’d… I don’t even know what I thought, I…” He trails off, waving his hand almost dismissively.

You gaze up at him, at his helmet where his eyes should be and do your best to reassure him as well. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle anyone. I thought he would think it was funny. But I’m still here.”

“I was about to…” The ship cuts off him rocking, a short, sharp, shock that seemed distinctly like what coming out of hyperspace feels like, “I was about to come tell you that we were about to be at Coruscant, but obviously.” He gestures and stalks off, shoulders sagging a bit.

“We’re about to go on an adventure, Boop. Are you excited?”


	7. Coruscant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader and co. arrive on Coruscant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are playing fast and loose with canon again. About six years after the end of the war, the Republic officially retook control of Coruscant, Galactic City, and the Imperial Palace (i.e., the Jedi Temple). Upon retaking the Palace after the end of the rebellion they found troves of artifacts in the Palace and took them to transport them to the new capital on Hosnian Prime. During the trip, they were all either destroyed or taken by some remaining Imperial Warlords. I'm fudging the timeline a bit and adding in a major… update to the Imperial Palace for Reasons™. Thank you in advance.

Coruscant was and had always been a planet with a plan. The spacelanes were hyper-specific and organized and an automated system took control of your ship as you entered the atmosphere. It would be a speedy trip using the high-speed lanes, forcing your nerves to build as you zoomed along over the giant city-planet, inching closer to the Imperial Center. 

You saw the Senate building first, imposing and oddly round. You'd always thought it strange but gorgeous. Intimidating in its importance, nothing compared to the Temple though. It wasn't two minutes later when the Palace came into view. Well, calling it a palace, you thought, was a bit of an overstatement. It was a ruin. 

Panic and shame seized your gut, making it feel impossible to breathe, and pointless to try. Half of the building was collapsed completely and the half that was standing still smoldered, sending billows of smoke into the air.

"The citizens must be happy to see it burn, after all they've been through." The mandalorian turned his chair towards you, and watched you for moment, "Are you going to breathe sometime soon? You're turning blue."

Vertigo overtook you for a moment, but you forced in a deep, ragged breath. "It's gone, the whole thing is gone."

"Is it really such a bad thing? Atrocities happened there, sometimes history is better left burnt to the ground."

"We came all the way here for nothing. There can't be any of the archives left in there. I'm so sorry. Maybe we should turn around and go…"

"No. We've come all the way here. It wouldn't hurt for you to face it. Maybe we can find something out from the local policing forces." You knew, in theory, that you were nodding but the reality doesn't dawn on you until the automated system lays the ship down in a short-term docking bay, and suddenly your reflection is staring back at you. You're startled by how small you look. Curved in around the baby in your arms, protecting the ache in your chest and stomach. You look oddly like Merrin in the glass, pale skin, wearing the maroon that she'd favored. The thought bolsters you.

Merrin would never let something as paltry as a building make her feel weak or small. She was too strong, too brave, too steadfast. So, you straighten your back and shoulders and hold your head up despite your instincts contradicting the idea. She had taught you to be strong and brave and steadfast, too. You would act like it.

You place the child in his little floating carriage, pull your cuffs on from where you'd left them on the table, and made to let down the ramp so you could exit the ship. You pressed the release and wrung your hands as it laid down. It had barely touched the ground when the mandalorian lays a heavy hand on your shoulder. You lean into it as you turn to face him.

"You don't have to do this, you know. You can stay here with the kid and I can go. You don't have to face any of it head on. Maybe I was wrong" His voice was so kind and gentle you can barely hear it through his helmet. 

"I think I do. But just don't get too far away from me. In case I pass out or something." You make your back straight again and turn to leave.

"Don't you want to bring your light sword thing? Just in case?" Your hand shoots to the back of your hip where the holding clip hides nestled in the layers of dark fabric, empty. 

"Yes, hold on." You close your eyes and stretch out your hand, focusing on your saber. It clatters against a wall somewhere for a moment before it slaps heavily against your palm, "Ha! I did it!"

"That'll come in handy." He says over his shoulder as he walks down into the bay, the child floating, ears perked, along behind him, “Until you break something.”

The ramp closes as he exits onto a causeway, scattered with beings. His legs are longer than yours but you're quick and manage to keep up, if only barely.

"It’s not a sword by the way, it’s a saber. there's a difference.”, you tell him as you step closer to his side to avoid running into a gaggle of tittering aliens, speaking a language unknown to you. Their excitement bleeds into your chest anyway and you can't help but feeling giddy. 

The child is in between and slightly behind you both, but his hands have reached forward to wrap themselves up in a chunk of the curtain of blood-red fabric on your back. You feel vaguely as if you're bring controlled with a leashed as he starts to gnash at folds gently. Teething, you suspect. He seems to have a full set but there's so much drool…

"I know." Mando says clearly, over the general din.

"Well, then why do you…"

"It seems to bother you quite a lot."

"You're bullying me!" He chuckles, low through his helmet. You like his laugh, and you can't help but wish you could hear it without the modulator again. "Now, that's just rude."

He's quiet then as he directs you onto a local transport with a hand on your back, requesting a stop at the ruins of your Temple to the driver. The man, a species you've never seen all blue and heavy set with cranky eyes, looks like he'd argue were any other passenger but only nods in acquiescence. After a minute you notice that others on the transport, and back on the platform, have been giving you a wide berth. You can't help but grin, if only they knew how big of a softie he really was. It's almost embarrassing.

You rap a knuckle on the side of his helmet, and he grabs your wrist gently, pressing it back to your lap, not quite letting go. "You gotta map in there?"

"I do have a navigation computer, yes. You, though, you seem to have a death wish. How many people do you think get away with hitting a mandalorian and live to tell the tale?"

There's a grin in his voice you think, the skin where he's still holding your wrist against your leg feels superheated. "I think I could take you."

He scoffs and the kid is smiling as he floats in his carriage in front of you. "He," Mando flicks the child's ear gently, "could take you on a bad day. I'm not worried."

"That's only because he’s very, very strong!" You reach out and tickle his belly, earning a delightful squeal. 

You almost feel like yourself again when the transport stops in front of the ruined palace. The worst of it crowds your senses as you make your way off the circular landing pad. The top the building has caved in places and the reality of is overwhelming. Instinct is telling you to run but there’s another direction there, Cal’s voice somewhere in your memory, “We have to face the things that we fear. Do not let fear break your connection to the force.”

“I’m going to go in.” You look back at the two of them and try to look braver than you feel, “Will you wait here for me?”

They both give an encouraging nod, and you leave them there waiting.


	8. Haunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader rummages through the ruins of her once home.

You wanted to describe it as painful, but that seemed an understatement. The walls gave off a sinister, murky feeling that had settled low in your gut like a lead weight. No part of the temple remained intact, pillars lay toppled and any remaining objects turned to ash in your hands. It was familiar still, the hallways, busted as they were. Repeatedly you had to step through broken walls and push past half hung doors that had been knocked over. In the main entrance only one thing had been whole, a single Imperial banner struggling to hang on to one of the crumbling arches. It was enraging, this metaphor. Burnt, broken, and destroyed but still the Empire remains, even if only in tatters. You’d pulled it down and torn it to shreds before shoving your way through debris and down and offshoot of rooms. 

You’d walked these halls as a child, a thousand times. Through to the kitchens, the master’s audience room, the dojo, your room. Your room had been situated down the hall from the nursery. The quarters had been spacious, comfortable but stark and grey save for the accent colors of your clan, a lush navy-blue stripe on the wall, the fabric of the chair and the edge around your blankets. You wanted to find it, that space that had been yours, the last place you had ever felt truly safe. It was a struggle to get off the main floor, the stairs a rocky ruin but you managed the climb none the less, leaping from ledge to ledge, almost falling once. The dorm hallways had been apparently refitted as housing for the Royal Guard, soothing tapestries and pastel paintings replaced with images showing the Empire’s strength including an extremely oversized image of legions of troopers saluting you as you looked upon it. The dead, identical black eyes peering out at you gave you chills, and you rushed on.

This was the room, this one here, five doors down on the right, five doors up from the nursery. The closer you got the more Din’s voice echoed in your head, ‘Atrocities happened here.’ Dread seemed to creep out of the room like a fog crawling towards you, threatening to engulf you and eat you whole. Your little space was all but identical when you stepped into the room, the only differences being the child-sized chair had been replaced with a larger one, and the grey walls had been painted black and slashed with blood red. There was no comfort to be found here. The nursery seemed to be pulling you towards it, though your instincts rebelled. What other harm could it possibly do, to see this place that inhabits your nightmares, that encompassed the focus of all your terrors. You were already destroyed. What damage was left to do?

The rooms double doors push open easily enough and the gust of memories that break forth almost brings you to your knees. This room had been converted also, to what seemed to be the guard general’s room. To think of someone living in this room, being comfortable, sleeping here in this space where innocent children had been murdered in cold blood fills your mouth with bile and threatens to overwhelm you. There’s a noise behind you and for a moment you panic. It’s him, you think, oh gods, it’s him, he’s come back! When you whip around, lightsaber lit, turning the room a deep blue, there is nothing but emptiness. Another memory pulls at your belly, calming your nerves. Something on the edge of your awareness lights up. 

Even at three, days in the temple had been arduous, every moment of the day accounted for. Force training after breakfast, lunch, history and politics lessons, physical training and dinner interspersed between what had felt like a million and a half meditation sessions. Even free time after dinner had been regimented. There was no childlike running, playing, or giggling. You were expected to behave, and you had. Only, you had been mischievous and had taken to sneaking away, wandering the halls. You visited the archives on occasion and spent time with the grumpy old librarian who let you stay if you studied in silence. 

Nothing you had done as a child was ever really out of bounds, you had been allowed to wander, though it had felt criminal, and you were certainly allowed to study the histories. It had been a particularly long day, something had consistently interrupted your focus during training and lessons, you’d been rebuked more than once. As you wandered, you’d found yourself deep in the bowels of the temple. There had been a door, a huge, reinforced door made of durasteel and stone. It held… something. You couldn’t imagine what it held, no matter how hard you focused the way Master Arthos had taught you. Empty your mind and reach with the force as you would your own hand. Think of the force simply as an extension of your own body. 

It had been so frustrating! You were good with the force; they had told you so. Though reminding yourself of that was pride, you had been told, and pride was expressly forbidden. But you were, for force sake! You could do things other initiates your age couldn’t yet, but the door remained a mystery. You’d only just reached out when the droid had scooped your legs from underneath you and cradled you against its frigid metal chest. It shushed as it walked, reassuring and neutral. Barely a week later the purge had happened, and it had taken you years to forget the impossible door. 

You stood in the same place now, feet from the door. The urge to see what was on the other side warred an ugly battle against your desire to just get out of there. Looking wins, knowing you may never have another chance. It feels different now, rather than a barrier it just feels like a void, and you know at once that it’s useless. Empty now and forever. You felt so stupid. Of course, you wouldn’t find answers here, there would be no closure, no answers, no help, no nothing. Just a ruin. 

Your knee catches a jagged piece of rock on your way out and you barely land the jump down the destroyed stairs without stumbling. The muscle burns and aches and helps you focus out the despair, grateful for the pain that silences the ghosts. The light outside is blinding after the darkness in the temple. Another urge to fall to your knee’s blossoms in your chest but before you can give in Din and the baby are in front of you, looking at you like a wounded animal that might lash out.

“Are you okay? Why are you limping, did you…”? The sob starts somewhere in your chest and claws its way up your throat and out of your mouth. It’s a horrible sound, baleful and desperate, anger, pain and sadness and it washes out like an implosion, shoving Din and the baby back away from you. The feelings are too much, too many all at once. Guilt drowns out the others and you run, taking off the temple and heading in the direction of force knows what.

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“Can you walk?”

“I’m drunk, not broken, Mando. Course I can walk.” You stumble to your feet and he barely catches you in time.

“You were saying?” He’s exasperated, obviously. How long had it been? How long had he been searching for you? And what was the point? They were better off without you, safer. Force knows what would have happened to the baby if he hadn’t been in his cradle? He could have been… you almost… but the thought refuses to pull together. Without asking further questions he tosses some sort of currency on the counter and lifts you into his arms with little effort.

Beskar, you think, is cold, unforgiving, and uncomfortable, much the opposite of the man it encases. “I like you better with the armor off.” It’s mostly a slur but you think he gets the point.

“Yes, well, I like you better when you’re not making me search for you on one of the busiest, most populated planets in the galaxy. Sometimes you just take what you can get, and you can’t walk on this leg. Running on it probably made it worse.”

Of course, you acknowledge that he’s correct. With adrenaline coursing through you it had been easy to run, no problem to put weight on it. One, two drinks in and the shooting pain hit again full force. You don’t think you could walk ten steps on it if it was life or death. Consciousness is a polite term for what you are, catatonic seems a better fit. You don’t nod off in his arms, even though the gentle motion tries its hardest to rock you to sleep. 

“There’s one more place I wanna see, Din, can you take me?” His head tilts, peering down at you as you wipe your runny nose on the sleeve of your tunic. He follows your directions easily enough, setting you down only once you’re in front of the building. The ghosts here are almost as bad at the temple, windows black, obviously abandoned for force knows how long. “This is where I lived after the Purge. I’d been totally cut off from the force, like someone had put a barrier between it and me.” 

Your temper is rising again, fast, and loud in your ears and Din seems to be able to tell now stepping back and away from you, body language obviously giving you away. It only takes one hearty push, and the building’s façade crumbles with a roar. Din catches you in his arms again as the world goes foggy around you. 

“You’re going to get me in trouble one day. I can just feel it. I’m gonna get you something for that knee, just stay there.”

Like you could walk if you tried. “Are we back on the ship? I have something on the shelf there, little green vials.” It felt like a blink, staring up at the blurry orphanage and then waking up to the muted lights of the ship, gleam on sparkling metal. He’s careful when he kneels next to you again, cradling the back of your knee in his hand like you might shatter under his touch. The jab is a short, sharp shock to your senses, the stims were effective and Cal had made them seem easy, but they made your skin buzz and your knee burn like it’s been set on fire. Effective? Yes. Unpleasant? Considerably. 

“There. Better now?” The yes comes out as a groan, you feel beyond pathetic. “The kid is fine. He understands. He keeps trying to come in here, but you should rest.” Another side effect of the stims was that as the burning faded, the waves came in its place. A smooth, warm tide that washed over you and dragged you out with it. The buzzing over your skin didn’t fade though, it carried over to add an extra layer of displeasure to your nightmares. But there was no use fighting it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for those who care, sorry that there was so long between updates here. lost my laptop(god rest its soul) and only just got my new one today.


End file.
